


Your Heart is a Muscle the Size of Your Fist (NICK AMARO)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit RPF
Genre: Nick Amaro - Freeform, Other, reader - Freeform, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7531120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Word count: 2637</p><p>Requested: Yes</p><p>Warnings: None</p><p>I literally,,,,, love this,,,,,, so much??? also if anyone wants to request a sequel I am literally more than okay with that because….. Nick Amaro… ALSO I only made it to Spanish Two in high school so the Spanish in this might be shit btw</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Your Heart is a Muscle the Size of Your Fist (NICK AMARO)

“Nicky,” You groaned, “What do you want? It’s like, three in the morning.” The man laughed on the other end of the phone, seeming to be awake and alert.

“I wanted to talk to you,” You could hear the grin in his voice and rolled over, wiping a hand down his face.

“Nicky,” You deadpanned, “Are you drunk?” He chuckled.

“No, just lonely.” His tone turned down, the real reason behind the call coming to light. You sat up and turned on the light next to your bed, sighing. “I didn’t mean to bother you, I know you were asleep.”

“Emphasis on the past tense of that sentence,” You joked, “But I’m up now. What’s wrong, Nicky?” He sighed and you heard his footsteps and then the fridge opening before he spoke again.

“Like I said, I’m lonely. The house… It’s so empty now. I feel like there’s too much space and not enough life.” You turned your lips up, feeling guilty for relishing in the fact that Nick had chosen you to call in the middle of the night.

“I understand what you’re going through.” You mused, “My house gets lonely too. It must be different for you, though.” Silence crackled over the phone and you heard the hiss of a beer opening.

“Can I catch a cab to your place? We can be lonely together.” You smiled and swung your legs over the edge of your mattress.

“Sure,” You basically whispered, “You know you’re allowed to come over whenever you want. _Mi casa es su casa,_ ” You butchered his mother tongue, listening as his laugh basically lit up the room around you.

“Maybe I’ll give you some _Español_ lessons too,” You snorted.

“Right, I don’t think that’ll be a good idea for you, Nicky. I don’t do language well.” The jingle of his keys rang in the phone.

“I can make people learn anything, _belleza_ ,” The name rolled from his lips and made you shiver when you stood, the cold air and a combination of your crush on Nick and his accent, making you excited to spend the night- morning?- with him.

“Just get over here, Nicky. You’ll catch a cold out there.” You could hear the rain pattering against the window of your apartment, the wind making a strange music. Nick laughed, the sound still tinged with sadness.

“You sound eager,” He noted, “Excited to see me, _belleza_?”

“You know it,” You began to make your way through the house, turning on the lights and preparing for company. Nick hummed to himself, probably catching a cab, and you smiled at the floor. Nick was… Something else. He was your best friend, your closest friend. “Hey, Nicky?” He made a noise of recognition, “Get here safe, okay? I’m going to put some coffee on.”

“I’ll make sure to get there in one piece. Don’t open the door unless it’s me.”

“You always say that.”

“I always hear you unlock the door before letting me in.”

* * *

The coffee maker was gurgling in the background, lulling you to sleep as you sat on the couch and waited for Nick. It was taking forever for him to get to you apartment, longer than usual. You were worried, but drowsy enough to not think to pick up your phone and call him.

Three knocks on your door brought your attention as you staggered to your feet, narrowly avoiding knocking your toes on the counter as you made your way to the door to answer it. You looked through the peep-hole, coming up with nothing but empty, dimly lit hallway. You bit your lip and decided to go against Nick, opening the door and stepping into the hallway, looking left and then stepping out to look right down your hall. There was nothing but a flickering light that your super had to get fixed.

Nobody was there.

You turned to enter your apartment again, only to jump and bite back a scream when you see Nick standing in your apartment, holding a bag from a bistro that you had been to a couple of times on break.

“Nicky,” You exclaimed, “What the hell?” He grinned at you, but it was tight.

“You opened your door,” You stepped in and closed the door behind you, groaning at Nick.

“Yes, I did. That’s what people usually do when someone knocks. Jeez, Nicky, can we quit the _Detective_ _Guapo_ thing for a second? You know we’re off duty.” He laughed, a deep throaty laugh, before gesturing to you with the bag.

“I got your favorite as a consolation for staying up with me on a weeknight.” You led Nick to your couch, grabbing two mugs of coffee on the way.

“I’m not really staying up with you, more like waking up to hang out with you. You should be pleased, Nicky, I don’t do this for anyone, you know.” Nick threw himself down next to you, finishing your order out of the bag, and then his next.

“Oh, I do, I do feel honored. A _persona encantadora_ like you, hanging out with me? Unheard of.” You took a bite of the sandwich you were holding, groaning and titling your head back.

“Stop,” You laughed, “I don’t understand Spanish! It’s not fair!” Nick chuckled and looked sideways at you, still giggling almost a minute later.

“It’s not my fault! I grew up speaking Spanish!” He knocked shoulder into yours and you fell into a silence, only broken by the sounds of the both of you swallowing your meal, or taking another drink of coffee.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, turning your eyes to the floor. You knew he would say no, and when you looked up and saw guilt flash through his eyes, followed by an almost invisible head shake, you nodded. _He probably went to Liv_ , you thought, _talked to her about it. He doesn’t need to talk to me_.

Even when you were putting on a grin and telling him that was fine you could feel the sadness burning through your veins. He nodded and you put your sandwich down, suddenly not hungry, Nick copying your actions.

“It’s not you,” Nick whispered, “I promise. I just don’t want to unload on you. You don’t deserve to hear what I have to say. I don’t want you to be hurt by this choice.” You nodded and laid your hand over his, both resting on his thigh.

“I get it, Nicky,” You reassured him, “I do. You have the people that you go to, and I have mine.” You didn’t tell Nick that he was the person you went to, but suddenly, you wanted to keep your mouth shut and keep everything you had planned on telling him.

“Thank you,” He whispered, smiling a crooked grin at you, “I’m glad you understand and actually want to hang out with me outside of work. We spend everyday together as partners, and here you are, letting me in your house at three thirty in the morning.” You collected the trash, tossing it over the couch, deeming it not important enough to clean up while you were getting one on one time with Nick.

“You’re like, one of my only friends,” You scoffed, “Why wouldn’t I want to hang out with you?” Nick held up his hands, pretending to count of reasons on his fingers. You shoved him, Nick laughing and, for the first time all night, the smile reached his eyes. “It’s a bonus you’re easy to talk to.” He pushed himself over, draping his body over yours, and pouted.

“Here I was, hoping you were going to say it’s because I’m _muy atractive… Y inteligente también.”_ He let his laugh ghost over your skin when the protests of not understanding Spanish rose to from your throat.

“You’re just going to keep doing that to annoy me, aren’t you?” You shifted your weight until Nick was spooning you on the couch, his arms platonically holding your waist. Or, at least, you knew he thought of it platonically. To you, though, his arms around your waist gave you shivers, igniting the feelings you had tried to resist since he had become your partner.

“I think I am,” Nick mused, pushing his face into the bare skin where your shoulder turned into your neck, “You’re pretty adorable when you’re annoyed.” You flushed, hoping that with his face in your neck, he couldn’t see it. _“Quiero que seas mi reina,”_ Nick whispered, and then he sighed, before falling asleep. His arms relaxed around you, giving you the opportunity to crawl out from his arms, but you didn’t.

Maybe it was selfish of you, but you didn’t. You stayed in his arms, warm from his embrace, still feeling the disappointment that came with knowing you weren’t Nick’s confidant like he was yours.

* * *

A phone was ringing, waking you up from where you were very, very comfortable. You groaned, shifted, and then realized you were very close to tipping off of the couch, as Nick was rolled over on his back, arms barely holding you to his body.

It was time to get up, you decided, letting Nick’s arms fall and your body to be freed. Standing, you popped your back before trying to find the source of the ringing. It was your cell phone, perched on the edge of your kitchen counter.

You picked it up, mumbling your last name sleepily into the phone after the ringing stopped. Carisi repeated the name in a surprised tone.

“What’re you doing at Nick’s place?” His voice was surprised.

“I’m at my house, Sonny,” You mumbled, “What’s up?”

“No,” He trailed off, “If you’re at your place, what’s Nick doing there?” You cocked an eyebrow, shaking you head before pulling the phone away from your ear.

“Oh, shit,” You gasped, recognizing it. The cell phone wasn’t yours, but Nick’s. “Um,” You mumbled when you replaced the phone in it’s spot on the side of your face, “He must have left it when he had dinner with me last night.” You looked over your shoulder across the breakfast bar, where Nick was splayed out on your couch. “Actually, I can’t lie to you, Sonny. Nicky’s on my couch right now.”

“Ooh,” His chant had a suggestive tone to it, “Did you spend the night on your couch, too?” Your back said yes, but your mind said no.

“Psh, no,” You laughed, hoping it didn’t sound too fake, “I slept in my bed. Do you think I’m crazy?” Sonny laughed loudly, making you grin, too.

“Anyways, Sarge wants you two in early today. Got a case and it’s pretty bad.” You groaned and rubbed your forehead.

“Yeah, I’ll wake Nicky and get his ass ready.”

“You’re the only one who can get away with calling him Nicky, you know that? He makes everyone else call him Nick or Amaro. You must be special.”

“Yeah,” You snorted, “Right. Remember I’m the only one who calls you Sonny, too.”

“ _Belleza_?” Nicky groaned from behind you, scaring you, “Who’s on the phone?” You tried to ignore Sonny’s cackle and his sputtered translation of Nick’s Spanish, rusty from high school.

“Sonny,” You answered, turning to Nick. He was ruffled, with scruff on his chin, and still looked sleepy. Eyes half lidded, he looked at you with a small smile, “We need to get ready and go in.” Nick nodded and mumbled something about the bathroom. “Dominick, if you keep this up I am going to slice you up when I get to the station if you mention anything about this to anyone.” He laughed harder.

“I’ll see you at the station,” He chuckled, “Bye.” You hung up without a goodbye and rubbed a hand down your face, stressed already. You had been awake for what? Ten minutes? and the stress what already eating through your stomach lining, breaking away at what mental strength you had gained over the years. Nick emerged from the bathroom looking slightly more awake, but he still had the scruff on his face.

“Good morning,” His voice was still deep, thick with sleep, “ _Belleza_.” You smiled up at him.

“Sonny translated that for me.” You watched Nick’s face pale, his eyes flicker with fear, before everything went back to normal. “Is that how you see me?” Nick nodded, leaning against the counter in front of you. He lifted a hand and ran a finger down your jawline, up to your lips and then over your cheekbones until they curled around the shell of your ear and traveled to the back of your neck. Without another word he leaned forward, ducking his head; his forehead was hovering next to yours, eyes searching for some sign of hold back, something that would tell him that you didn’t want to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss you. “Are you going to kiss me, _guapo_?” You mumbled, lips barely opening, mouth barely moving. It was a whisper, but you could see Nick’s pupils dilate, his lips twitch up in a smirk.

_“Sí,”_ He mumbled, pushing his jaw forward to meet yours. You met him halfway, hands reaching for Nick’s neck, his own tightening on your neck and another knotting itself in the bottom of your shirt. You pushed yourself toward him, body flush against his, while your lips met, separated, met, separated. Nick was kissing you like he was starving, like he was dying, and you were the only thing that could save him. His breath was washing heavy over your face, his head seeking yours every time you moved to adjust the angle your lips were meeting his.

He mumbled your name, hand moving from your neck to between your shoulder blades, to press your chest closer to his, to reach your lips from a new angle, causing you to sigh. The fever of the kissing slowed down, Nick sated from finally being able to kiss you. You were dazed, lost in time in the moment you had only dreamed about. His scruff scratched against your face as he pressed his cheek against yours, dragging it down until his face could meet your neck. There, he left a lingering kiss before sighing, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer, if that was possible. You moved your arms to twist around his shoulders, fingers locking together to hold Nick against you.

A phone rang again, Nick groaning and reaching for it blindly. He moved away from you, but only a little bit, before he answered it.

“Amaro,” He griped, eyes searching your face. You blushed as he did and smiled, watching his reflected the sentiment.

“Yeah, Carisi, I’m still here. What’s it to you?” Nick blushed and his eyes moved back to your lips, “Yeah, no, we’re on our way. Yeah, we’re ready. No, we didn’t do that.” You flushed and let loose a small laugh, looking down. “Yeah, right in front of me.” Nick rolled his eyes, dipping down to silently press his lips against yours, “We’ll be there, bye Carisi,” He mumbled flatly, ending the call quickly.

“I hate Sonny sometimes,” You mumbled, “Always too nosy.”

“I can understand that,” Nick mumbled.

“One more kiss for the road, Nicky?” He grinned at you, pressing his lips to your again, the world standing still as the kiss intensified. Nick eventually chuckled and pulled back, removing his body from any contact with yours.

“Alright,” He sighed, “Let’s get to work and then I’ll take you out on a date after we get off today.” You watched as he snatched his phone and stuffed it in his pockets.

“Hey, Nicky? Can I get dressed? You’re already wearing the same clothes as yesterday; if I go in wearing my pajamas, we’ll never hear the end of it from Sonny.”


	2. Keep on Loving, Keep on Fighting (NICK AMARO)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 2785
> 
> Requested: Yes
> 
> Warnings: Blood, gore, cursing, mentions of death and hospitals, ect. ect.
> 
> literally thank god @ the person who requested this I was literally begging someone in my head to request another part to this,,, also feel free to request a third part or even more svu stuff. also holla at this song bc it’s literally the title of this and the first part i love the song so much bye

You started to court Nick; it wasn’t exactly a relationship but you two were exclusive. He came over to your place for dinner each night and you went to his house with a bag packed for the weekend, all the while being able to keep it a secret from Olivia and the team.

Of course, Carisi knew something but you had that under wraps. You bribed him with cannolis from the bakery he loved but couldn’t make it to and he winked at you while he chewed, showing you that your secret was safe for the week.

It wasn’t your cup of tea, but Nick had told you on more than one occasion, when you were wrapped in his arms and his blankets on a Sunday night, that the job had taken more than one of his relationships and he didn’t want you taken from him.

That’s also why you hadn’t slept with him yet.

You were afraid that once you had let Nick see the most personal parts of you that you wouldn’t be able to keep work and love- _ah_ \- work and a relationship apart. You were afraid that you would broach the subject about going public and Nick would shut down, rally against telling the squad because it would ruin what you two had.

Even though what you two had wasn’t a real relationship, but more like friends with dinner and cuddle benefits, friends who didn’t see anyone else because they liked each other, friends who kissed a lot and sometimes made out on the couch and took their shirts off. You wouldn’t trade it for anything; except, okay, _maybe_ for a relationship that was going out to dinner, a relationship that was holding hands and kissing in front of your friends, a relationship that was feeling warm and happy about sleeping in his bed instead of feeling cold inside because you knew it was only going to last until you woke up on Monday morning and went to work.

But you knew that the moment you disclosed your relationship you wouldn’t be his partner anymore, wouldn’t work closely with him, wouldn’t have his six. You would be Carisi’s partner and, though you didn’t mind him, he wouldn’t know the moves you made before you made them like Nick did.

You were thinking about that at your desk, absentmindedly filling out paperwork from a case you had just solved and was about to go to trial, when Olivia ran out of her office, ending a call on her phone. She called your last name in a sharp tone, drawing your eyes up, “Yes?”

“I want you and Amaro to go check out a lead we just received; it came in on our anonymous tip line and they say that there’s a hostage situation with a possible rape happening in the apartment next to them. Go, now.”

You were up before Nick had time to process it, gun holstered and badge clipped to the side of your jeans. He followed you down to the car and then gave you the directions Olivia texted him, flipping on the siren. It allowed you to weave through traffic as you needed, but you turned it off when you got close to the street. Nick barely blinked because he knew you wanted to take a more silent approach instead of busting in, guns blazing.

“How are we going to play this?” His voice shook with anticipation and he looked like he wanted to reach for his gun, “I’m all for busting down the door, but Barba would be up my ass about that because we don’t have a warrant.”

“But we have probable cause,” You reminded him, “I say we knock on the door and say we’re investigating a hit and run, claim someone reported that the neighbor was there. But we have to be fast, that bastard could be raping another girl.”

Nick nodded and then you two were off, into the apartment and up the stairs. You could hear her screams the moment you stepped out of the stairwell and it made your blood rush, anger in your veins.

“Change of plan,” You mumbled.

“Guns blazing?” Nick asked, even though he knew he was right. You took your gun from the holster and pounded your fist on the door, announcing yourself like you were trained to do. Moments after the screaming cut off abruptly and Nick kicked the door in, letting you rush inside the apartment before him.

That was a mistake.

The man had the victim tied, laying naked on the floor in the living room. He had taken the few moments between your knocking and Nick’s kicking the door down to hide behind the door, bringing the butt of a gun down on the back of your head, twisting his arm around your neck and holding a the barrel of his revolver to your temple. Nick froze, arms as tense as his jaw, gun aimed at the man’s stomach.

“I would drop that gun, Detective,” The man ordered, his still hard penis pressing into your lower back, “Or your pretty partner gets a _bullet_ in the _brain!_ ” His voice raised to a shout, the smell of alcohol and weed rolling over you. You struggled against his hold, cursing when your gun slipped from where you had it pressed between your torso and your arm.

“Nicky, don’t do it.” You were saying a million things with his eyes, all of them telling Nick not to drop the gun. You were telling him that the woman crying on the floor was more important than you but he didn’t believe that.

He thought you were the most important thing in the world.

“Oh,” The man hissed when Nick didn’t speak, “ _Nicky?_ You sound like you’re familiar. Have you two got it on? Banged in the break room while your co workers looked for men like me? You’re dirty, dirty cops.” He crowed in your ear. Nick grimaced and raised his gun to the man’s head, causing him to press the bullet harder into your temple. It sent pain spiraling around your skull, causing you to struggle harder, push against his arm in any way possible.

“Nick, just take the damn shot.” You growled, the man’s arm slowly tightening around your neck. It caused your voice to become strained, your face to blossom red. Nick was shaking with anger, unsure what to do. He was lost, there was no training for a situation like this.

Well, there was. But Nick couldn’’t remember it. Hell, he couldn’t remember his own name watching you struggle against the gun, seeing the sickening grin on the man’s face, hearing the girl sob on the floor, screaming for help.

“I can’t,” His voice was choked and he watched your eyes harden as he looked at you, “I can’t take the damn shot because he’ll be able to shoot before I can.”  
  
“Oh, you’re pretty and smart.” The man cooed, coddling Nick like he was a child. He moved you back to the couch, pushing you down on it as he kept his gun trained on your forehead. “You better not make my compliment fake, because if you shoot now, I can still kill your partner.”

Nick shuffled a couple of steps forward, the fact that he was bringing your gun with him not lost on you. He was trying to give you an opening, an option to get yourself to safety.

He didn’t want to think about what it would be like the breath air if you died. He didn’t want to think about what Sunday mornings would be like without you there to keep his body warm with your legs tangled in his.

Nick didn’t want to think about what life would be like without you.

You knew that if you kicked up and hit the gun, it would go flying and maybe, just maybe, you could make your way to the gun; maybe you would be able to get back into power, take control of the situation. Nick seemed to know that and you saw him move his eyes to the ceiling and then to the floor before they landed on the gun pointed at you. He agreed; that plan was your best bet and he thought that you should go for it.

It was a moment of tension, more than any horror movie could infuse you with. You kicked your foot out, missing the gun and hitting the man’s forearm. He cried out and dropped into a crouch as you shot up, falling over the side of the couch as Nick kicked the gun toward you, screaming at you to hurry up.

You grabbed the gun and you whipped around, finger on the trigger, ready to drop the asshole to the ground, but he was faster than you or Nick could believe.

Three shots were fired before either of your fingers could pull the trigger, a fourth shot came from Nick and then the silence that buzzed around the apartment was one of Death hovering around, waiting to claim His victim. The man, you assumed, was dead before he hit the round but you weren’t sure because the apartment was spinning as you pushed yourself to your feet.

There was pain, but you chalked it up to being thrown around and collapsing to get your gun but when Nick paled and his eyes widened to an impossible size you knew. The man had landed at least one shot and the evidence was damning as it soaked through the fabric of your shirt and your jeans.

You collapsed into Nick’s arm, gasping for breath as your eyes screwed shut with pain. Nick was trying to talk to you but it went in one ear and out the other. Why hadn’t you - Why hadn’t you worn your vests? A rookie mistake, made by the both of you; you were the only one who had to suffer from it. Nick was cradling your body, screaming into his cellphone. There was blood on his hands and it looked wrong there, like it was making him dirty and ruining him by just being brazen enough to be on his body.

You never wanted to see Nick with blood on his hands, but he never wanted to see you bleeding from three separate holes in your body; your shoulder, your hip, your thigh.

It was becoming harder to breath, harder to see the panic of Nick’s face, harder to feel his hands on your bullet wounds. You could still hear the girl, but she had stopped screaming and started stuttering, groaning and- no, she was still screaming.

Were you groaning? Stuttering and trying to speak, but choking on your tongue?

“N-Nicky,” You gasped after realizing that it was you, “Nicky, is the g-girl safe? She’s s-safe, right?” He nodded and tried to smile at you but you could see the tears in his eyes.

“You’re safe, too, baby, you’re safe, too. The bus is on it’s way and you’re going to be okay.” You couldn’t stop your eyes from drifting away from his face to the ceiling.

“G-Go to the girl,” You ordered, “She has a b-better cha-chance of survival.” Nick shook his head, grabbing your chin and forcing your eyes to face him. He looked stern, more so than you had ever seen him, and you wondered if Nick had ever let someone see him cry, “Ni-Nicky.”

You felt yourself start to numb, but even as the pain faded away the tears came.

“I’m scared,” You confessed, trying to raise your arm to caress the side of your face, “I d-don’t want to die.” He nodded, leaning down to kiss your lips.

“I know, baby. You can make it, you can hold on. _Shit_ , please stay awake. Please.” You nodded and raised the arm that didn’t have a bullet in it’s shoulder to touch Nick’s face. He pushed his cheek into your touch, nearly not breathing as the sirens coming closer finally registered, “There they are, okay? They’re here and you’re going to be okay. Baby, please. Please.”  
  
“W-Will you tell them? Our team.” Nick looked confused and the first tear of many finally fell, “That we,” You coughed and dread replaced the fear when you felt the blood trickle past your lips, “That we we-were us?” Nick nodded, a sob breaking from his throat.

“Yes, baby, when you get to the hospital and get help I’ll tell them. Then I’ll be at your side until you wake up, okay? And you can move into my apartment because you’re- you’re going to need help to get better, yeah? Okay, does that sound good?”

And you smiled, actually smiled while you were basically dying in Nick’s arms, and nodded your head, “Tha-that sounds wonderful, N-Nicky. P-Promise me th-that you won’t s-s-stop loving? Wo-won’t stop fighting?” Nick sniffed, trying to make his crying stop as he heard the EMTs approaching.

“I won’t, I’ll keep on loving you, okay? Because you’re going to be fine, baby. You’re going to be fine and I love you.”

Before you could tell Nick that you loved him too, your eyes rolled back in your head and you began to convulse.

* * *

The light was the most disorienting thing when you woke, and the hand in yours, head on your hospital bed as Nick snored, was the most comforting.

In fact, it looked like your whole squad was in the room with you, all in various states of sleep. AManda was sleeping on the floor, Fin on the loveseat. Carisi was bent over in the chair and Olivia. had draped herself over the table and had her legs crooked out at an awkward angle.

Nick was the one with his face pressed into the mattress of your bed, hand holding yours in a death grip. You could see the dark shadow of facial hair on his face and it made you wonder how long you had been asleep. It couldn’t have been long; Nick’s facial hair usually looked like that on Monday when he had a three day weekend.

You didn’t linger on the logistics of your sleep because you wanted to run your hand through his hair, but it was the one caught in his. Your other hand was pretty much useless, from what you could see it was bandaged from your collarbones to your elbow. Your thigh felt like it was wrapped up pretty well, too, and nearly your whole stomach was covered.

To be frank, you felt like _death_ , even though you had a steady drip of antibiotics and pain medicine flowing into you from your IV.

Was there anyway you could get a nurse in to get water without waking your team? You almost wanted to sleep again, but you also wanted to talk to Nick, to flesh out whether or not the I love you that you received was because of your blood on his hands and the way your face was paling with Death’s grip.

Eventually, you settled for shaking Nick’s arm with your own. He groaned, possibly thinking that it was one of the nurses trying to get him to go to sleep at home, or at least to get him to sleep in a cot. But when he realized the shaking was coming from under his hand rather than his shoulder he jerked up, eyes wide and frenzied as he whispered your name.

“You’re awake.”  
  
“I think the most important thing here is that I’m alive, Nicky.” Your voice was scratchy from underuse, but it lit up his eyes just the same when he realized that you were moments away from death the last time you spoke and then you were cracking jokes in a hospital bed.

“You’re okay,” He leaned forward, steadying himself with an arm on the other side of his body, to press his lips against yours in a desperate, needy kiss filled with love and relief. He was kissing you in front of the team but you weren’t thinking about that. You were thinking about the way his scruff felt on your face, the way he smelled, the way he never let go of your hand, the way Nick was crying again but the tears felt warmer than the ones when you were laying on the floor in a puddle of your own blood.

They were tears of joy, happiness, instead of fear. Nick kept kissing you even when Carisi awoke and wolf whistled, he kept kissing you even when you tried to nudge his face away. He finally stopped when the nurse came in but then he ignored her orders and, very gently, crawled into bed with you, refusing to let you go.


	3. And Hold On, Hold On (NICK AMARO)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by anonymous: YES that’s the Amaro story I’m talking about. But as far what I want don’t care i just want tons of fluff like maybe after she gets out of the hospital and he’s taking care of her? Or anything you want cause you’re a great writer!!
> 
> word count: 574
> 
> warnings: post gunshot, mentions of death

The gun was held tight in your hand, shaking with the force required to keep it there through the sweat on your palms.

Nick was nowhere to be found and the panic in your system was too much. You felt like there was two thousand pounds on your chest, iron in your lungs.

It was too much and the suspect was closing in on you.

“Nicky!” You called, never taking your eyes off of the man in front of you. It was hard to see in the dark, and you were trying to make out a face, but you couldn’t. “Nicky, I need help!” The man was getting closer and you were going to have to shoot, otherwise you would die. He had his own gun and it was pointed at you, the barrel pointed at your forehead.

When you went to pull the trigger the sweat on your fingers made you slip and the gun toppled from your hand. The man in front of you grinned as his own finger put pressure on the trigger and the bullet, as if in slow motion, spiraled toward you.

You could feel the burn as it spliced through your chest and you called out for Nick as you fell backward, onto a mattress. Arms wrapped around you and you fought them, the faceless man still whispering your name as he cackled over your bloody body.

But as you pulled your hands away from where the bullet entered your chest cavity, there was no blood. The arms around you were not those of malice intent, but of love. You stopped fighting against them, eyes shut tight as you tried to control your breathing, focusing on Nick’s warm breath against your neck, the way he was strong around you. Like a cage meant just for you, to protect you.

“Belleza,” He mumbled, lips pressing to your pulse point. “Belleza, are you okay? Mi amor, lo siento.” His voice warbled and your hands wound around his wrists, holding him tightly to you. You tipped your head toward his, focusing your breathing with Nick’s as you pictured the way his body was pressed tightly to yours under the covers.

“It’s not your fault.” You gasped, “I’m sorry I woke you.” Nick shushed you and asked you to open your eyes as he rolled over to blanket you, keep you warm and safe to try and calm you down.

“Please, talk to me. Inhale, exhale. Por favor. Hablas conmigo,” Nick seemed frantic and you pulled him closer to you by your shirt as your heart stopped beating frantically, your stomach uncoiled and you cooled down. Nick felt you relaxing and in turn he relaxed.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” You repeated. nick squashed that thought with a slow, quick kiss and then he sighed, nuzzling your neck.

“Don’t be sorry. How many times did you hold me through my nightmares? You deserve to be held more than I do.” You shushed him, exhausted from your anxiety attack. He was tired, too, you could tell by his pale skin and the bags under his eyes. You just wanted to sleep, but you felt too safe under Nick’s body and you didn’t want to move.

“Can we sleep like this?” You asked, already ready to go back to sleep, “I feel so safe.” Nick’s response barely registered with you as you drifted off, but it made you smile.

“Por supuesto, belleza. Te amo.”


End file.
